


Friendship Garden

by clearinghouse



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Alternate Universe, Asexual Character, M/M, Romance, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-14
Updated: 2016-11-14
Packaged: 2018-08-31 01:46:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8558407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clearinghouse/pseuds/clearinghouse
Summary: Bashir was only hoping that hiring a concubine could relieve some of his loneliness. He never expected to fall in love.





	

A high-pitched, carefully modulated tone broke the silence. “Is that for the new book you’re working on?”

Bashir jumped in his seat. Very few other people came into this library, which, as a hobbyist historian, he kept as his workplace and sanctuary. He tried to look composed by keeping his attention on the records scattered on a table in front of him. “That’s right.”

“I see.” The older, fair-skinned man came behind him. As always, his presence sent nervous shivers through Bashir. “Forgive the interruption, Mr. Bashir. I did not mean to disturb you. I only came to remind you that lunch is ready.”

Bashir gripped the tome in his hands tightly. His pretty Garak was always doing these nice things for him. “You…” He lifted his tone, to make it a joke, and faced Garak with a friendly expression. “You know you’re not my servant, right?”

Today as all days, the fair-skinned man was wearing strangely colorful clothes from another land. As a rule, he wore more clothes than was warranted in the hotter weather typical of Bashir’s home. “Yes, I know it is not my job to cook. I enjoy cooking, sir, and you have no one else here to do it.”

That might be true, but the fact that Garak did these menial tasks was an awkward one to Bashir. “There are already people who do that kind of work here,” he offered, as gently as possible.

“And not one of them likes to cook.” Garak smiled back, equally as gently. “I left the food in the dining room for you.”

“Would you have lunch with me, Garak?” At least he could ask for that much?

That informal request made Garak visibly uncomfortable, and Bashir felt even worse. “I suppose there should be enough food for two,” he answered at length, sounding wary and reluctant. Though as if to make up for that, he added, “I would very much enjoy the opportunity to hear about your history work.”

Bashir’s heart felt like it was being painfully ripped inside.

As the son of a powerful (if rather disliked) sultan, it was not unusual for Bashir to have a concubine. However, it was unusual to have one who was an older male, an obvious foreigner, and most of all, celibate.

Alone in his father’s summer estate for most of the time, Bashir did have some friends, and he lived a privileged life. Unfortunately for him, he simply didn’t know anyone as intimately as he would have liked, and he dearly wanted a romantic partner. He needed someone he could give himself to and rely on, someone he could know completely and be known completely by, someone to share the rest of his life with no uncertainty or fear of abandonment. That was probably asking for a lot, yes, but it was what Bashir longed for the most.

So, in the end, he had sent a very private request to have someone sent to his estate who could make him feel loved, as a service. In particular, he’d asked for a foreigner, someone that no one he knew could possibly be connected to. And somehow, one way or another, he’d woken up one day to find Garak living in the estate.

Garak was perfect. He was handsome, polite, foreign, and interesting, and he treated Bashir with respect despite Bashir’s lack of authority and despite the unexpected difference between their ages. Garak often spent time with Bashir at Bashir’s request, and the delightful conversations they shared revealed to Bashir that Garak was a learned, intelligent man.

Yet when they were not discussing the finer points of literature, Garak seemed to want nothing to do with him. Certainly, Garak never expressed interest in conversation for its own sake. The white man spent most of his time in the garden, away from Bashir.

Bashir knew he could ask Garak to his bed regardless of whether or not Garak truly found him desirable, given their circumstances, but the idea that he repulsed Garak repulsed himself tenfold. He much preferred to win Garak over, and steal the man’s feelings as Garak had the first time Bashir had laid eyes on him in the then-underdeveloped garden.

And yet even so, despite his lack of interest in the sultan’s son, Garak did such nice things for him, such as admire his work and cook him wonderful meals. What was Bashir doing so wrong to make Garak look the other way from him when in the same room? Any time Bashir tried to get closer, his lovely Garak pulled away. Bashir couldn’t ever send him away, though. He loved him.

Bashir greedily held Garak’s hand as they walked to the dining room. But he should not have been so desperate as that. He tried not to visibly shake when Garak took back his hand under the premise of opening the door for him.

\--

Today he watched Garak from his bedroom. It was from here that he had an excellent view of the outside plants that Garak busied himself with down below.

He couldn’t hear it from inside the high perch of his palace, but he knew that Garak was humming to them. Garak took such good care of them. The garden had once been dry and dark, but since Garak came, was now vibrant and colorful. Garak put a ridiculous amount of work into the garden, really, redesigning it in extreme ways and growing it prodigiously in size. Of course, Bashir would let him do whatever he wanted with the garden.

Infatuated and depressed and feeling lonelier than ever, he reached into his pants and touched himself to the beautiful sight down below. He wanted Garak to tend to him the way that he tended to the flowers. Those flowers had earned Garak’s loving touch, so why couldn’t he? What was wrong with him?

Did Garak doubt his love?

“I love you, Garak,” he murmured pathetically. “I just want to hold you, that would be enough for me.” The current action of his own hand suggested otherwise, but it was still true in a way. “You’re always so kind to me. I promise to always be yours…” He shuddered, panting heavily. “You don’t have to want me, Garak. I would be happy just to watch you. If you let me touch you, that would be really nice, would you like that, too? Is that okay? What would make you happy? I love you, Garak, want you to be happy…” He breathlessly soiled his pants like a teenager, but he couldn’t help it, he couldn’t think of anything else but the beautiful and intriguing man so far beyond the window, trimming the hedges so innocently.

Bashir was sick to his stomach with himself. The awful pointlessness of his self-pity struck him. He would never have what he wanted at this rate. No, no more being so pathetic! Bashir must confess to his love, and confront the truth of Garak’s feelings at last—and he would do so tonight, he declared to himself—or else he would remain such a childish wreck as this.

\--

Bashir invited Garak to a romantic dinner that he set and cooked himself, half to prove to Garak that Garak didn’t have to cook, and half as a gesture with which to express how much he cared about the man.

He was pulling out all the stops. He wore his nicest suit, and behaved as flirtatiously as he could without being rude. He’d set the table just for two, and lit a couple of candles to add to the romance. “You are comfortable, here, aren’t you, Garak?”

There was a touch of prim haughtiness in the answer, the uniquely pretentious air that never failed to make Bashir smile. “Yes, quite.” But there was still that lingering apprehension, the one that hinted at Garak’s disinterest, the one that threatened Bashir more than the point of a knife. “I must thank you for not using the local sauce. I’m afraid I still haven’t built the stomach that can tolerate it yet.”

Bashir held the glass of drink dreamily. “Oh, I’d like to think that it might grow on you.” He ran the tip of his finger around the rim of the glass, and batted his eyes. “And maybe, it isn’t the only thing that might grow on you?”

Garak smiled companionably, and awkwardly.

Bashir fought back a wince. Now wasn’t the time to give up. “I’m…” He had to restrain the impulse to promise his wealth as an incentive for romance. “I hate to think how bored you have been here, cooped up by yourself.”

That one earned a sharper reply than he’d been expecting. “Not at all!” Garak exclaimed. “I have a lovely friend to spend time with, and a gorgeous place to stay. Besides, I really ought to show you the garden. It is coming along nicely. It would be a pleasure to share my work with you.”

_Just a friend_. The burning question couldn’t be kept inside anymore. “Why do you spend so much time in the garden, Garak?”

The light of the candles caused a flicker on the white man’s features. “Mr. Bashir…”

This was unbearable. It had been unbearable for far too long. Bashir let his distressed feelings show on his face. “I love you.” His heart pounded away with abandon. “I want to be with you all the time, Garak. Why do you avoid me?”

Garak hesitated, and the pause in the conversation was horrendously long. Then he gave a long sigh. “It’s not my wish to upset you, Mr. Bashir. But I suppose it is my fault that this has happened.” He looked down at the fork in his hand, which had stopped moving. “I should have told you this before. I am not the person you think I am. I am your guard, here to protect you from your father’s enemies while you are virtually alone in this house. That is my real job, for which your father hired me. When I arrived and found his garden in such a pitiable shape, it was a depressing sight. It certainly cheered my spirits to meet you there, first reading by yourself, and then turning to regard me with such… such…” The foreigner became almost dreamy. “You were so kind to me, so generous. Though it took me some time to realize what it was you wanted from me, I should have made my position clear to you as soon as your hopes became obvious. But I didn’t want to disappoint you, nor did I want to mislead you with impossible promises. I didn’t know what course to take…” He looked back up. “Please, forgive me. I truly want to remain your friend. I won’t abandon you.”

“But you’re not attracted to me, are you?” Bashir was devastated. Yet hadn’t he known this already? Garak would avoid him as always. He’d been an utter fool. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I have to go.” A coward, a quitter, a selfish and childish brat, whatever he was, he couldn’t stay here. He stood harshly, pushing his half-finished meal away, and fled to his bedroom.

Garak was sad as well, but Bashir didn’t give himself the opportunity to look back at him.

\--

Garak came to him in the middle of the night with a knock on his door. “Mr. Bashir?”

Bashir hadn’t gone to sleep. He’d stayed awake in bed, restless with despair and self-loathing, and only now had he managed to calm himself down. However, the sound of Garak coming to him almost made him start losing control of his emotions again. He didn’t say anything, and waited with leaden heaviness in his veins for Garak to either let him be miserable in peace or to forgive him for being so irrationally unfair.

“You don’t need to answer me, Mr. Bashir. I know you are awake.” There was the noise of the man leaning on the wall. “I should know. I couldn’t fall asleep, either, knowing that such a kind young man as you was suffering.”

Bashir buried his head in his pillow, and squeezed his eyelids too tightly closed.

“I missed you after you left dinner.” A long pause ensued, and it was a very long indeed, because the young man was hanging on every word. “I don’t wish to cause you any more disappointment, but, it would make me happy to give you a tour of what is finished of the garden, if it wouldn’t trouble you. Please, Mr. Bashir? Your company is so agreeable to me.” A soft, single knock rested against the hard door. “Won’t you come see the garden with me?”

After the fool that Bashir had made of himself, the man still desired his presence. “Y-Yes,” Bashir replied uncertainly, and it reminded him to steel his voice so that he should sound less defeated and more like the sultan’s son that he was. “One, one minute, please!” He dressed himself in a careless hurry. He wanted to be by Garak’s side so badly. He never wanted him to leave.

Bashir had been so distracted by lustful dreams of intimacy that he’d forgotten about the true companionship that Garak already provided, and which had made Bashir fall in love in the first place. That companionship could never be broken, even if they didn’t sleep together. Garak made him laugh, made him happier than anyone else ever had. And Garak would not abandon him. The more Bashir thought about that, the more relaxed he became. He would again be with Garak very soon, in a way that was so much more meaningful and lasting than a concubine could provide. They were friends. They were friends! They would always, always, always be friends!

\--

The garden was even more beautiful up close. Bashir hadn’t given himself the chance to visit it, since he’d tried to give Garak his space, but even in the middle of the night it was a miracle to behold. The fireflies and the hanging lights that made the flowers shine were soothing to the young man’s overtaxed emotions.

Garak brought him to the place where they had first met. It had been surrounded by ugly weeds then, and now was covered with a vine-laced gazebo, dotted with berries. “Here is where I must confess to you the truth,” he began, as his finger played unconsciously with the vines, and his gaze grew detached.

Bashir slowed to a standstill. What? Hadn’t Garak revealed his truth already?

“First, the most important truth. I am something of a double agent. I work for your father, but also for my government. I report to them from time to time, in the name of peace and security, of course.”

“You’re a spy?” That certainly was an important detail! “So, y-you’re saying that you’re here to spy on me—?”

“Yes,” Garak cut him off, “but before you get too excited, you should hear the important truth first.”

“What?” That was a dumbfounding enough request that Bashir obeyed it. “Uh…”

“As I was saying, a great deal of preparation is needed to become a trusted agent in my country. It had been decided that I would be the best, and to become the best, some sacrifices had to made. One sacrifice, in particular, has never troubled me, until I met you.” Only now did Garak’s voice become more remorseful. “I hide it, as well as I can, but there are signs. My light voice, my servant occupations that require a certain kind of trust.” Garak paused tiredly. “And, though not all eunuchs are asexual, no doubt it has played some role in my being that way.”

“Are you a…?” No way. That couldn’t be true. That was impossible. “Are you a eunuch?” Bashir couldn’t imagine how such a thing could be true, and of his friend, no less. It was more foreign to his mind than a mere difference in skin color could ever be.

“… It does a spy well not to be distracted by a family.” Garak’s reply was spectacularly facetious. “I never regretted this condition. It has helped me serve my state. And it has given me power.” He allowed himself an ironic smile. “I have no dependencies; my government asks me to spy on a sultan; the sultan asks me to protect his son; and a nameless concubine was requested to appear without ceremony at his son’s doorstep and earn the son’s total confidence.”

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.” Bashir stared hard at the ground, his fists clenched.

Garak finally turned to him, concerned. “Why are you sorry? I am the one who should apologize. Though I have done my best to serve you as your guard, I have also deceived you.”

“But, what you said, that all sounded really difficult and strange. And, never mind me being vulnerable, it sounded like you would have let me take advantage of you! I never meant for…” Bashir closed his eyes. He was ashamed, and very perplexed.

Were they still friends, at least?

“Mr. Bashir,” Garak stated emphatically, his sardonicism suddenly gone. “Please, I haven’t told you the important truth yet. Asexual though I may be, I am truly in love with you.”

In love with you.

_In love with me? What?_

For an agonizingly tumultuous moment of confusion, Bashir forgot how to breathe.

Garak didn’t seem to mind. “I’ve had peculiar feelings regarding you since we first met here. They were frightening, and unfamiliar to me. I didn’t believe I was capable of love, you see, and yet I am very happy when you are with me. I looked forward to every little word passed between us. Oh, but you are such a nice, young man, with a rich life ahead of you. I can’t presume to believe you would want to share your life with an impotent foreigner such as myself. I don’t know what I can give you, Mr. Bashir, but, I hope, perhaps, that you at least like the friendship garden that I have made.” He idly played with a branch of berries on one of the bushes. “It’s a good season. You can pick any of the food that you like.”

Bashir’s head swam. What was Garak saying? He loved Bashir, but he couldn’t actually love, on account of being a eunuch? Whatever it was, it made Bashir hopeful. “A friendship garden?” Bashir asked stupidly, if only to let his voice out. “Is it called that because the food you grow is for anyone to eat?”

“Not exactly. I call this a friendship garden, because this is where my finest friendship was cultivated.” In the slight darkness he faced Bashir, and held his hands. “Mr. Bashir?”

“Garak?”

“You are the most important person to me. Nothing was ever so painful as watching you leave dinner tonight, and it took that pain for me to realize how oblivious I have been. Despite everything, despite what I am, I can still be yours, can’t I? I’m not familiar with love, and I may not have the assets you would have wanted in a partner…” Those white hands gripped themselves with greater strength. “But I do like to hold hands, and hug. And, we can have sex, if you’d like. That is fine with me. I’ll be happy if it makes you happy.”

Bashir’s thoughts were scattered in a million different places. Half of his thoughts were bright and lively; half were black and too terrible for words. “What? No, no, no, wait, I don’t think I want that…” He shook his head. “I’m so confused, I can’t think right, I need a minute…”

“Certainly. Take your time.” Garak was all patience, a tranquil reflection of the garden around them. “I love you.”

“Really?” On a fierce impulse, Bashir embraced him tightly. “Oh, Garak, really?” At long last, he knew that he could hold him. “My Garak, always my Garak, my lovely, perfect Garak, I love you, too, however you are.”

At that moment, two lonely, guilt-ridden people felt a little less lonely and guilty.

\--

After a long night of talking, they were both comfortable in the relatively more silent atmosphere of Bashir’s bedroom. They snuggled together in sleepwear, on top of the sheets. Essentially, they were trying out simply nuzzling each other. It was nice. Bashir was thrilled to at least have this closeness with his beloved concubine.

But good heavens was Bashir confused, and it showed in the awkward mannerisms with which he tried to touch Garak without touching Garak.

Garak wasn’t quite so disoriented, though he was amused. “Yes, Bashir?”

“I was, was just thinking…” Bashir simpered. “What’s it like?”

“What is it like.”

“I mean, what’s it like to have, um, uh,” he gulped, “no luggage?” He blushed, but he couldn’t help being curious.

Fortunately, Garak smugly enjoyed the question. “Well, I suppose I have certain tailoring requirements that are unusual.”

Bashir giggled. “Yeah… And, um…?”

“Yes?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I’m still a bit… confused.” He shrugged his shoulders pathetically. “I shouldn’t be asking you all these things right now, anyway. I’m really just so happy to have you here with me.”

Garak ruffled his fluffy hair. That touch alone was the sweetest of gifts; it made him feel exceptionally special. “I owe you so much, my dear.” He looked like he was truly at peace. “Whatever it is you are thinking, do not trouble yourself. We have all the time we need to learn more about one another, now, don’t we?”

Bashir blushed with infatuation. “Yeah, you’re right.”

The innocent way his mature Garak’s cheeks pinched when he smiled was so adorable. Their hands remained chastely clasped for many hours to come.

\--

For the next few days, Bashir was filled with a giddy nervousness. The two spent all of their time together, be that in the library, in the backyard, in the dining room, or sometimes in the kitchen. Garak was opening up to him, at last, and Bashir had never before enjoyed someone’s company so much. He’d never felt more loved than when Garak grinned with laughter, or approvingly laid hands on the young man’s shoulders.

At one time, Garak elaborated on his sexuality as though it were an extremely simple matter. He told Bashir that he never felt attracted to anyone, had no libido, and quite frankly would prefer a piece of chocolate to self-stimulation any day of the week. So Bashir concluded, okay, only nonsexual romance would be allowed with Garak.

But Garak’s presence still excited him and made him feel warm and hot inside. It was not something he was proud of. He decided that he would simply take care of himself in the bathroom, when Garak wasn’t around. That way, Bashir wouldn’t be preoccupied with his body’s base needs, and Garak needn’t be bothered by them.

However, when he sat in the bathroom, he felt too sad to carry on with it. He wanted this to be okay, somehow. He wanted to share all of himself with Garak, including this.

Sighing with bitterness at himself for not being more grateful for all that Garak gave him, he went for a walk outside. The fresh air would distract him, he hoped.

He saw Garak, working away at the garden. He was planting some seeds along the walkway with gloved hands. Before a retreat could be made, Garak saw him as well. The gardener stopped working and beamed gloriously. “Ah, Bashir! Did you have a nice rest?”

Bashir hated himself a great deal for growing aroused at the sight of his beloved. He should have quickly took care of himself when he’d had the chance. “Um… Hi, yeah, it was good.” He pretended to not be troubled. He covered up his developing state by sitting down on the bench and crossing his legs. He tried to focus on the garden. “This is gorgeous, Garak. I like what you’ve done here.”

“Why, thank you.” Garak moved over down the walkway’s border of dirt so that he could do his work closer to Bashir. “We haven’t gone to town together yet, have we? I was planning to visit the market for some groceries this afternoon; perhaps you would care to join me?”

“Mm, sure,” Bashir hummed distantly, failing to keep his excitement tempered. He was too anxious. He loved Garak’s company, and that was very much the problem, because he couldn’t seem to stop being excited as long as Garak was near.

Suddenly, Garak stopped what he was doing. From where he crouched with his bushes, he looked at Bashir, up at his face, and briefly at the knees.

Bashir grew very red, and averted his eyes, embarrassed.

Garak tilted his head. “Ah. I see.” He faced his plants again, embarrassed also.

A crushing pause fell between them.

“I’m sorry,” they each said at the same time.

A lighter, bewildered pause.

“No, I’m sorry,” they each turned back to the other person.

Tender feelings surfaced in each man.

“It’ll go away soon,” Bashir insisted quietly. “Keep telling me about the groceries.”

Momentarily silent, Garak searched the ground for the right words to say.

“Garak? Um, what do you want to get at the market? Can we buy the stuff to make that eggplant pasta again? I really liked that.”

“I like being close to you, my dear,” Garak murmured, in a pitch that was unusually low for him.

That oddly suggestive tone made Bashir’s nerves thrum. “What do you mean?”

The answer was resolute. “I would satisfy you.”

“But no, I would never make you do that! You’re not into that. I understand.”

“Oh, my dear.” In complete seriousness and downcast humiliation, Garak discarded his gardening gloves, and clutched them. “I’m asexual, and yet, I do want to be your concubine,” he said softly. “I want to make you feel as any other concubine would.”

Bashir shook his head. “But, that’s not possible… you don’t…”

“What? What is it? A eunuch won’t cut it? I don’t feel enough?” Garak became abruptly bitter. A tear or two fell down his white face, and his wrist angrily met each of his eyes.

Before he knew what he was doing, Bashir jumped off the bench and reached for Garak. His arousal was not yet completely gone, but right then he couldn’t have cared less about it. “No.” Bashir hugged him devotedly. “I don’t think you’re unfeeling. I love you.”

“Oh, Bashir. Forgive me. You’re very kind.” Garak spoke with a noticeable lack of control of himself. “I know you believe it would not be fair to bed me, that I couldn’t possibly enjoy the sentiment without the other expected aspects, and yet the sentiment is all I need. It is awful how much I need it… Ah, but listen to me ramble. I’ve been deluding myself. I’m not fit for the sort of love that you want. Who could want an asexual eunuch for a lover?”

“Me,” Bashir stated emphatically, surprising even himself. He pulled his startled Garak closer. “I don’t really understand everything yet, but, you say that you’re interested because you want to share the emotions of the thing with me, or something like that?”

Apprehensively, Garak sniffed and nodded. ““The thought of intimacy without sentiment, has always been a nightmare to me,” he whispered. “But intimacy and sentiment with you, that is a fantasy.”

Bashir savored the little jump in his gut. “Want to know something, Garak?” he whispered back.

There was a loud swallow as Garak shook his head and widened his eyes uncertainly.

Bashir opened his mouth to tell Garak how excited he was about this, but then at that moment realized that there was a contradiction here. If Garak had always had such a fantasy, then why had he rejected Bashir at first? Garak had said the other day that he hadn’t known that he was in love until that dinner together. So, did Garak have such emotional desires of Bashir before recognizing that he was in love with him?

No, that wasn’t possible. Garak had simply lied to him.

The man had known for a long time about his love for Bashir! So, why did he reject Bashir until that night… unless, he’d been afraid? Afraid of intimacy without sentiment, of that nightmare? Did he suppose that he wasn’t good enough, that Bashir could never really love him?

The sultan’s son smiled slyly. It was decided then. Henceforth, he would make sure that everything between them would be full of honest feeling. Garak would know exactly how Bashir felt for him.

Emboldened, Bashir delicately stroked the side of Garak’s face. “That turns me on so much, because I’m in love with you, and I’m so happy that I get to spend time being close to you.”

That one seemed to go over very well. Garak was breathless.

“I hope you don’t ever doubt my love for you, or how great I think you are,” Bashir continued with complete seriousness. “And I hope you know…” He laughed. “Well, how nice it is to have someone like you.”

“Will I be enough for you, though?” It sounded like that was a private thought that Garak hadn’t meant to say out loud, but Garak didn’t retract the question. “You may not enjoy bedding someone like me.”

“I wouldn’t say that! I, um, I actually think it sounds…” As he began to imagine, his eyes closed unconsciously. In his mind he saw Garak beneath him, moving in small motions but not overwhelmed by desire, smiling serenely up at Bashir as the burning young man lost control and begged Garak for so many things. “A-Awkward,” Bashir said with a blushing grin. “And, um, maybe good, you know?”

He felt Garak’s hands on his own, and opened his eyes to see a charmingly delighted partner gazing fondly upon him. “You’re very cute when you blush.”

“Hey!” Bashir indignantly puffed out his chest. “I’m handsome, not cute.”

“Yes, yes, you are very handsome.” With nothing but affection in his touch, Garak gave him several pats on the head. Bashir leaned blatantly into the touch, so the hand rested there, and they sat together for a while longer, each man thanking his good luck.

\--

Bashir had such a nice time with Garak that afternoon, walking around the streets with arms full of food as they talked, that it made him angry at first when he started thinking about consummating his relationship with Garak after dinner. He didn’t really need to waste their time with such activities, after all. And yet, he couldn’t fix his attention on anything else. He wanted to feel Garak against him so badly, and despite his best efforts, he couldn’t change his own desires.

Without knowing quite how he’d gotten there, he was in his bedchamber again, with Garak in his arms. They were on the bed now, on their knees. Garak was unbuttoning his foreign-looking clothes, starting from the top. Bashir was doubly anxious and worried. The eunuch’s shirt was open, and it swayed loosely, revealing a strangely hairless and slightly squishy chest.

Bashir wanted to touch that tempting skin. Unsure, however, he stopped himself.

Garak looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

Too shy to speak a single word, Bashir focused on getting his own things off. His tunic was easily discarded, but he felt a strong rush of guilt when he went for his trousers. Was Garak disgusted by what he saw?

Garak’s relaxed voice cut the tense silence. “Do you want to see what I look like, first?”

Thank goodness. Bashir could breath again. Sure, yes, anything. “Okay.”

Without showiness or delay, Garak opened the remainder of his clothing, and Bashir’s eyes glued themselves to what was revealed. Well, Garak definitely had a soldier down there, though it was obviously smaller than normal, and made no effort to match Bashir’s enthusiasm. Beneath that, there was nothing but smooth skin.

The exotic sight excited Bashir with an unexpected heat. This display of trust made him feel such a need that he had never felt before.

A bit hesitantly, Garak continued to lower his garment down a few inches.

The sight of so much trust captivated Bashir, and filled him with courage. Bashir pulled those trousers back up in a flash, and zipped it closed once more.

Garak froze. “Bashir?”

Everything was so clear to him now. Bashir beamed. “You’re so beautiful.” He tenderly started buttoning Garak’s shirt back up. “Why don’t you stay like this for me, Garak?”

The simple gardener didn’t know what to do. “But, I want to… make you feel…”

“No, no, just wait. You don’t have to do anything.” Bashir set the last button back into place. He fell back on the bed, took a deep breath, and stroked himself slowly through his clothes. “Oh… Garak… You’re so beautiful…”

Garak was spellbound, and confused. It was utterly precious.

There was no need for Garak to get his hands dirty, after all. His company alone was gratifying enough to satisfy Bashir. This was enough.

“You… don’t need me? Should I not be here?”

“No, please! Don’t leave!” Bashir whimpered. “Don’t leave, oh god, don’t leave, I need you… It feels so good to have you watch, please…”

Still, the foreigner didn’t understand. He crawled closer. “My presence alone is stimulating to you?”

“Nh! If I didn’t know better, I’d swear you were teasing me…” Bashir groaned pitifully.

Still hesitant, Garak threw an arm over him, and hugged him. “Is this all right?”

“Oh, Garak…” Bashir rubbed himself harder. “Yes, oh yes…”

“You are so cute,” Garak murmured.

Bashir didn’t want to stop. It was a confusing situation, but he’d waited so long for this, and the frustration of the wait made Garak’s presence alone all the more arousing. “I’m yours, always yours.” Bashir gasped.

Relaxing, Garak rested his head against Bashir. “Hold me?” He asked.

The small request was quickly obliged. One dark hand left its discreditable activity to hold Garak’s soft shoulder. That simple touch alone fanned the burning in Bashir’s veins. “Garak…”

“Both hands?”

Anxiety threatened Bashir, but indeed Bashir took his other hand away, leaving himself aching and trapped in his clothes. He rolled partially onto Garak and embraced him needfully. “I love you, I love you, I love you…”

Shining like the sun, Garak took hold of the young man’s pants, guided them down, and experimentally held onto the arousal that came out.

Bashir moaned.

Garak stroked the length smoothly. “May I?”

Euphoria shot through Bashir like a piercing, blissful arrow. “Oh, god…” Bashir braced each arm beside Garak, and hid his straining face in Garak’s neck.

“I’m not hurting you?” Garak asked with genuine concern. “Or going too slowly for you?”

“Garak, please…” How selfish Bashir must look right now! At this second, he couldn’t remember why Garak would ever want to do this when he couldn’t possibly feel any reciprocated stirring. Bashir couldn’t repress his mountain of guilt for dragging Garak into this. “I’m sorry…”

“No, Bashir, my love, don’t say that.” Garak’s light voice blanketed him from above. “I’ve wanted to do this to you for so long.” He worked harder to please Bashir, and goodness, it was working. “Your embrace, your affection. They are my world now.”

Bashir exhaled shakily, and hugged more securely. Garak always smelled so nice. “More, please…” He shuddered. “Garak, I’ve never felt like this before, you, you make me so happy…”

“I will protect you,” Garak said, and Bashir was lost in the heavenly cloud of his love’s words. “Do you know what it means to me, to be able to hold you like this? No person has ever wanted this from me, and yet you want me, and I need you. I want to become a part of you, my dear. I want to feel you respond to me in my hand, just like this, to show you that I can give you whatever you desire most…”

Never in all his lonely experiences in his quarters had Bashir been so passionately overwhelmed as he was by his release at Garak’s hands. Bashir gave up all his dignity and surrendered every aspect of himself to the older man, probably making an ass of himself as he collapsed onto Garak. It was strange, and private, and wonderful.

Garak spoke mildly afterwards. “Was that enjoyable?”

“Enjoyable?” Bashir repeated in obscene disbelief. He spread out lazily onto his back, and laughed.

Garak laughed as well. “I see. Well, I’m glad. Very glad.”

“It was great. But, you know, we don’t have to do this again, if it’s too weird for you.”

The last thing Bashir expected was the severe disappointment on Garak’s countenance. “Is that so?”

Bashir hastened to backtrack. “I mean, unless you want to! Of course, it wasn’t too weird for me! I’d want to do it again!”

Garak sighed with gratitude and hopefulness. “Ah. Yes, I would love to.”

Bashir sighed with relief. That answer was fantastic proof that Garak had enjoyed him, in his own way. Bashir yawned. “Hey, Garak, I’m sleepy. Would you tell me a story?”

“If you wish. I could tell you about the adventures of an international spy, if you like. Would you like to hear the one about the intrigue of the escaped prisoners and the spy’s exile?”

Bashir hummed with approval. He held Garak possessively, the way he’d wished to for such a long time, and whispered his thanks to Garak for choosing him, for giving him the chance to love him.

\--

A year had passed since then.

Today was the anniversary of the night they’d become a united whole. Like most couples, they celebrated it with a day of romantic shows, long walks together, and a night that they would always treasure, shared in the den of their friendship garden. Though, for them, it was not precisely a _friendship_ garden any longer.

“Garak… Garak…” Bashir moaned with pleasure into the snug summer air.

The moon was full tonight, shining down on the fully-dressed gardener kneeling before him. He, on the other hand, was completely undressed. He longed to touch the man, but his hands were tied behind him. He was the one who had asked Garak to tie him up. It was an admittedly embarrassing gesture that, normally, Bashir would never associate with love, but it had seemed like a wonderful way for him to show the strength of his trust to Garak.

“I love you, you can do whatever you want to me…” He spoke for the sake of flooding Garak with sentiments that, amazingly, drove Garak crazy. “I wanted to be like this just for you, tonight, vulnerable and shaking only for you. You’re the most important person in the world to me, I think about you all the time, Garak, you make me feel so good.”

And with that, Garak was crying. He did cry easily. Yet Garak’s comfortable rhythm deepened, too. He briefly pulled his head away and licked dark, sugary syrup from his lips, a teasing sight that made Bashir twitch. From the bottle in his hand, Garak drizzled some more chocolate onto Bashir. He then bowed his head and licked again, going down on his personal sultan completely, over and over without pause.

With a loud shout, Bashir arched back into the patio’s chair, and hardened completely in Garak’s throat. “Oh! Please, don’t stop… Garak, you’re so good…” His knees parted further, and he gasped. “Garak… Please, please…”

Garak ardently held the young man’s bound hands and pulled Bashir closer, warming his body and scorching his soul with the intensity of his love. Bashir thrusted slightly, all but feeding a delighted Garak more chocolate syrup.

“Please, all my life, stay with me,” Bashir begged at last. Then, he lost all control. His eyes closed, his lips parted, and he fell back completely into the chair as he shuddered relentlessly.

Smiling softly, moving deeply and slowly, letting his own grateful tears finally wash away the rest of his own pain and shame, and imagining a lifetime of a perfect companionship fit to make the heart explode, Garak obeyed.

The spy even allowed himself to briefly consider the possibility of taking his hobbyist historian away from the realm of imagination, and into the land of real intrigue, to mark history as it happened and perhaps to help shape it. It was unlikely that Bashir would be interested, though maybe it wouldn’t hurt to casually bring it up later.

End.


End file.
